


See Me

by AvatarToph



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Phantom of the Opera (2004), Phantom of the Opera - Lloyd Webber
Genre: Abuse, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Abuse, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Raoul goes back in time, and sees what happened to erik as a boy, this changes things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-31
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2019-04-16 02:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 14,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14154783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvatarToph/pseuds/AvatarToph
Summary: Thanks to a gypsy witch, Raoul is thrust into Erik's past, when he was The Devil's Child. He sees what made the mysterious Opera Ghost into what he is. He also sees that no man is past redemption.





	1. Chapter 1

After years and years of despising the monster in the attic, she finally decided to do something about it. It was awful to touch and needed to be hidden from view, so she was sure to bundle it in scraps, wrapped around its head and blocking most of its vision. In the dead of night, she grabbed the sleeve of its tattered shirt and ran for the forest.   
The bundle stumbled after her on tiny legs, shaky from little use. It didn't speak or try to break free, just hurried with her like a pup on a lead. After a while of tripping through the dark, the pair made it to the edge of a gypsy camp. Almost as if on cue, though probably because they heard the noise from their frantic journey, a pair of strong men met them before they made it to the tents.   
“No show tonight, missy. We're packin’ up to move out.” One said in a thick accent.  
The woman gripped the sleeve of the beast tighter, drawing it forward and away from the safety of her skirts. “I've got something to sell to your ring leader.”   
The two stood shocked, looking to each other as if they hadn't heard right, then cautiously ushered her deeper into the circle of caravans. The thing wrapped in cloth began to sob, but stopped when the woman shook its arm and hissed “Be quiet!”   
One of the men knocked on the door of a simple wooden cart, waiting a moment before a tall man in a torn purple coat emerged. He looked to the man at his door, then the small group behind him, noting the angry young woman roughly handling what looked to be a boy covered in rags.   
“What is this, Yensin? An angry customer?” he scrubbed at his face and made his way to her. “What is the problem, madam?”   
“I want to sell you something.” She took hold of the cloth on the child's head, not paying mind to the way it desperately gripped the end and muttered something too quiet to hear. “It'll bring in many customers, I promise you.”   
The leader stared at her hard, then down to the boy-at least, he assumed it was a boy- and motioned for her to go on. With little flair, she ripped the cloth from the child's fingers, revealing that it was not a child at all, but an unholy corpse! The three men gasped, one of them turning away in disgust. The wretched thing curled in on itself, trying to turn in her grasp and seek shelter from their stares. Suddenly, the leader gripped its sparse hair and turned it this way and that, studying its features closely with awe.   
“My, what a despicable thing you have here. Did this creature come from you?” The woman stayed silent, which was answer enough. “No matter. It's clear you must have lain with the devil himself to produce this.” He released his hold, allowing the miserable thing to whimper and cry unhindered. “I'll give you 50 francs for it.”   
As soon as the money was in her hands the woman was gone, running home and leaving the beast to someone else's care. Yensin took hold of the creatures arm, tugging it towards the animal cages. It offered little resistance, but had trouble matching his long strides and so spent most of the walk being half dragged. With assistance, the strong men moved the two tigers into one cage, freeing the other for the newest attraction. As Yensin tossed it in and locked the door, the leader began talking excitedly to himself about how he'd make a sign for the front, theme it as The Devil's Child, put Javert in charge of training the corpse to put on a show. He and the men soon left and the poor beast was left alone in its cage, curled in a back corner and able to wail its young heart out at having been abandoned by the only family it had ever known.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul wakes up

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This will be updated at my leisure. I love feedback and comments, but rest assured I plan on finishing this within the next few weeks.

Raoul slowly awoke, feeling as if he had slept contorted in a small chair. One minute his body felt stretched too thin, then it felt too loose until, with a sudden jolt, he tumbled off whatever he was laying on and discovered that he was in a very odd place. It was not his home, nor a random nook in the Opera Populaire that he occasionally took when he spent too long in the office and needed a moment to himself. No, this was a smelly tent. Dark, with a couple of tears in the fabric, allowing minimal light in, and with random clumps of hay littering the dirt floor. In the center was the main support pole as well as a large box thing. But why on earth was he asleep here? Of all places?   
Raoul poked his head out the flap, seeing that only a few people were milling about doing morning chores, but he still did not have the courage to go out and ask for assistance when wearing.. oh.. goodness, he was only in his night shift! If his mother could see him now, she'd be rolling in her grave. He'd need to be stealthy for this and make sure no one saw him.   
The front flap was no good. That would be too obvious. He'd need to sneak out from under one of the sides. He tried going to the right of the opening a bit, seeing that there was another tent just a few feet away. So he tried the other side, but to the same effect. He was surrounded. How the blazes did he get here? And why did he not remember?  
“Don't panic, De Chagny. Just…. think of what happened last night.” He muttered to himself, rubbing at his temples. He'd come to the opera house early, as he's taken to doing since Christine had shown interest. He'd shared breakfast with her. Done a few rounds to talk with the various staff, met with the owners when they'd received a letter from the Opera Ghost, and gone home after talking with Christine. She'd been worried about something. Something to do with the spectre she believed was tutoring her. Raoul had personally never seen him, but he had received a vaguely threatening letter from him at one point. After that he had gone home. Nothing overly special. No wine before bed. So how he ended up here was still a complete mystery.   
Now that he had been pacing the tent for a while, he could make out the shape of the structure and saw that it was a cage. It didn't seem to have anything in it, but then again it was still just vague shapes to him.   
Light poured in from behind, startling the man. He jumped and turned, almost losing his footing, and stared wide eyed at the gnarled man that seemed to glare right at him. “Get up, Beast. Time to clean the cage.” What? He couldn't be talking to him. None of that made sense.   
“I'm terribly sorry sir, to find myself in your way, but I don't know how I got here. Could y-” As he stumbled through a hasty greeting, he took a few unsure steps back. The gypsy continued advancing until he was right on top of him, then…. walked right through him. They should have collided but instead Raoul felt a light breeze and the man simply passed through him, as if he were no more than air. As he had a small panic over this strange discovery he did not see the Beast until the gypsy had pulled it from the cage, groggy and whimpering. Despite his panic, this creature now had Raoul’s full attention.   
It had obviously just woken and was unaware of what was happening but, after a quick slap to it's small back, it stopped squirming and making noises. The child stumbled after that large man out of the tent and cringed in the sunlight.  
“Hey!” Raoul cried, running after him, uncaring of his state of dress. He reached out a hand to stop him, but the hand phased through. He watched helplessly as the boy's hands were tied with coarse rope and the other end tied to a nearby tree. The man hissed a warning to stay put, then went back to the tent and left them alone. Raoul looked down at the boy, wondering what he could do.  
He could be no more than ten years old, judging from his body since his face was covered by a dirty sack. He was naked, but for a pair of filthy shorts. His limbs were thin and bruised, his shoulders had whip scars that wrapped near his collar bone.   
Instead of staring Raoul needed to so something! He crouched behind the tree and attempted to untie the knots, but his fingers wouldn't grip and instead went straight through the rope and the tree.  
“Master won't be happy.” The boy said quietly. The sack turned until it seemed the boy was looking at him. “He'll be mad if he sees you.”   
“To hell with that man! Why does he treat you like this?” He threw his hands up in frustration. “Why do my hands pass through everything?” The boy flinched as his voice got louder, so he whispered “I'm sorry, please. Don't fear me. I want to help you.”   
The child didn't seem convinced, but didn't protest either. “Who are you?”  
“I'm a vicomte from Paris.” He said. After a final attempt, he sat back, defeated. “But I don't know how I got here or how to get home.”   
“We will be headed to Paris in about a week.” The boy pipes in. “ It's far away and I'm not sure how you got out here in just a night shirt, but you will be able to make it home if you follow us. We are making one more stop before then.”   
Raoul gave him a smile and leaned back against his arms. “That's good to hear. I wish it were sooner, but I suppose a week isn't bad.” After a beat he frowned and added “Tell me boy, how long have they done this to you?”   
“I don't know.” He answered honestly. “It's been years, but they've bled together by now. Maybe 5? I know I was very little when my mother brought me here.”   
“Your mother? Did they kidnap you?”   
“no.” Was all he said, but there was such a sadness in how he said it that Raoul didn't press further.   
There was shouting in the tent, then a little gypsy boy scurried out with a bucket and cloth, apparently done scrubbing the cage. The harsh man from before came bursting out, taking large steps until he was within reach of the child. He wrenched him to his feet and untied his hands before dragging the young boy back into the tent. Raoul could only watch as he was tossed back in, hitting his head against the bars as the large lock clicked shut.   
“All clean for your show tonight, Beastie. Sleep tight.” He gave a booming laugh and swept out of the tent.   
Why did he keep calling the boy ‘beast’? And why keep a child in a cage? It obviously had to do with his face. Why else keep it under a sack like that? Still, it seemed odd. How did he get here, and for what purpose? And in only his night shift? Did he sleepwalk? For apparently a week? Impossible.   
And why couldn't he touch anything? He could feel the ground, but everything else phased through his hands like vapor. Well, that wasn't entirely true. For some reason he could touch the bench he'd awoken on. And this boy was the only one who could see him. Could he touch him? Even if he could, the boy was too scared to let him get that close. And It seemed for good reason. He had been here for years, locked in a cage, whipped, starved, mistreated worse than anyone should.   
He would ask these questions to the boy, but it seemed he had fallen back to sleep, exhausted while Raoul had paced the tent. No matter. He seemed to have plenty of time and felt neither tired nor hungry. Chances were he'd be here for a while. He would ask him later once he was rested. For now he would venture around the camp to find something to help the boy escape.


	3. Chapter 3

Raoul spent the day following various gypsies. At first, he had been timid. After a while he began testing if they could see him by doing increasingly bizarre and ridiculous dances and impressions. It was a little freeing, realizing he could get away with anything. No one was going to judge his actions or how he wasn't properly dressed. If his hands didn't pass through everything he touched he would be sorely tempted to play a few pranks. He was a spectre. A ghost. Maybe the famous opera ghost was in the same predicament; able to see and talk, but not able to be touched or heard. When he got back, he would try very hard to make contact. Maybe he was lonely too.   
Raoul was making his way back to the tent when he noticed people pouring into the area, holding their ticket stubs and pointing to everything they passed. Little ones running ahead to see everything all at once. Couples holding hands while sharing a small bag of peanuts. Now that he was more aware, he noticed that the sun had begun to set and the lanterns were being lit. Raoul hurriedly ducked into the tent, not wanting to discover that NOW someone could see him in only his night clothes.   
He made sure to stay against the back, away from the entrance, and watched as people began filing in. There were mostly kids at first, then adults began following their lead. Soon the whole tent was packed, surrounding the cage and the boy inside. The boy was pressed against the back of the bars and shaking. From his reaction, Raoul worried about what would come next.  
The portly, angry gypsy from earlier stepped out from behind the cage. He now had a short coiled whip hanging at his side and stank of alcohol, two things that could only spell trouble. “Ladies and Gentlemen” he practically slurred. “what you are about to see is a grotesque sight indeed. Not for the faint of heart! If you have a weak stomach, you should leave immediately, for many have fallen ill at one look of this terrible beast.” The crowd ooh-ed and squeezed even closer, standing shoulder to shoulder with perfect strangers to catch a glimpse of this mystery. The gypsy man grinned a gap-toothed, nasty grin before producing a skeleton key. He jammed it into the lock and flung the door open. It only took two strides to reach the bundle huddled on the other side. The crowd watched with rapt attention as he reaching down to take hold of the poor boys arm. A few people in the crowd, mostly women,seemed confused and protested the treatment of the boy, but the gypsy knew that wouldn’t last long.   
All it took was one hand rested on his head to make the child still completely, all resistance gone. The man looked back out at the crowd. “No one leaving? Alright, but I warned you. Behold!-”   
Here, he dramatically tore the bag away. The crowd gave a loud gasp, followed by a few screams and shouts.  
“The Devil's Child!” “-hideous!” “Good Lord!”  
Raoul tried to see what was happening by jumping and stretching as far up as he could before remembering that he can just walk through everyone. Hesitantly, he reached a hand out to the nearest person, letting himself shiver and gasp at the alien sensation before diving forward and making his way to the front as quickly as possible. He stopped once he was standing in front of the pair in the cage. The child was still being held against his will, practically forced against the bars, then spun around to face the crowd on the other side. Those that weren't completely disgusted had taken to throwing stones and coins at the beast, as well as hurling taunts and slurs.   
In the hurricane of noise, the two made eye contact.   
If Christine were here, Raoul would be utterly ashamed of his reaction. But to be fair, it was not something a person saw every day. On one side, the boy had a beautiful face, like that of a normal young boy. On the other, it was as if he had been doused with acid. The cheek was concave, rough, and discolored. His lip pulled up and revealed his teeth in an imitation of a snarl. His nose was as if someone had cut along a precise line, leaving most of it alone, but taking only a portion of the right side. Worst of all, though, were those haunting yellow eyes that seemed to glow in the dim lighting of the tent.   
The boy broke his stare first, looking defeated and miserable and, suddenly, Raoul came to his senses and realized he'd been staring in horror.   
Raoul wanted to say something, anything, but it was too loud to expect the boy to hear him. He remained silent, watching as the young boys head was roughly forced up, making him face the crowd. Raoul felt awful. Sure, he wasn't the one throwing rocks, but he had made this poor creature feel worse. This boy who was a human being, capable of thought and feeling and reason. Who was dragged around at whim, beaten, starved, and laughed at.   
Raoul fell to his knees amidst the crowd and cried. He cried for this poor existence, for the boy he couldn't touch or comfort. He cried for the sudden wave of guilt and shame he felt wash over him. He swore then that he would do whatever he could to make the boy forgive him for his transgression.   
The noises slowly died down as the crowd grew bored of throwing things. The gypsy man released him, allowing him to huddle in a pathetic ball and slip his sack back over his head. He slammed the cage door shut, locking it, and ushered everyone out with a warning to behave, lest the demon come after them at night.   
Raoul wiped the last of his tears away, getting to his feet. The child hadn't moved.   
“Child. I'm…. I'm so sorry. Please.” He knelt in front of where the boy lay. “please look at me.”   
It was as if he couldn't hear him. He stayed curled protectively around himself. Both ignored the gypsy man returning to collect the tossed coins from the ground, since he wasn't presenting an immediate threat.   
Raoul wanted to cry again. He had well and truly messed this up with the only being that could see him. And wasn't that just a hopeless thought? A mistreated boy in a cage who refused to look at him was the only one who could see.   
Raoul lay down next to the boy to appear as non threatening as possible. “I promise you I will never react that way again. I'm going to find a way to get you out of here. You can come live with me and you'll never see this place again.” Raoul continued rambling soothingly until the boy fell asleep. Since Raoul didn't feel the need for sleep, he kept watch over the boy, coming to terms with whatever was happening to him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The camp makes its way to Paris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life happened and this took longer to come out than expected.

The gypsy camp moved the next day. Every able body woke early, took apart the tents and pegs, then stuffed it all into the back of the caravans. Most everyone was quiet and drowsy eyed, so they worked around each other without exchanging any words. This put Raoul on edge. All through the night he had dwelled on the events he had witnessed and, even now, still couldn't come to terms with them. The lack of distraction from his very loud and angry thoughts left him emotionally exhausted.  
The boy, likewise, seemed to be lost in thought and didn't make a sound. Since he was trapped in the cage and much too scrawny to be any help, no one had him working. He sat among the hay, slumped and rubbing at what he could reach of his back. He would wince and suck in air through his teeth when he made contact with an open wound, but otherwise stared at the bars in front of him with a miserable look. Raoul wanted to say something comforting to him, but what could he say that hadn't already been said last night? Or that would mean anything coming from an intangible stranger?  
So they watched as the rest of the camp around them came down. It only took a couple of hours for everything to be stowed and tucked into place. Then, the ringleader and his assistants came to inspect the carts, including the cage the boy was in. He quickly pulled the sack over his face as two very large men lifted his confines off the ground and moved to place it on a flat cart that was waiting just outside of the tent. Raoul looked at his own arms self consciously. There's no way he could lift that. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, he was sure it couldn't be done between just two men.   
Once it was secured, the tent was folded and stored behind the cage. The ringleader gave his approval and, with a snap of his fingers, the circus group began moving.   
The pace was slow. Already he was bored.   
“Are you alright?” Raoul asked. He got no response, so he jogged to walk right along side the cart. The boy didn't make eye contact and continued staring off into the distance. “Come on, child. I'm going to lose my mind if you don't talk to me. I've told you how sorry I am about the other night.”   
His pleading didn't change anything. His gaze didn't waver, he didn't speak. He went back to rubbing his shoulders distractedly as if he couldn't hear Raoul at all.   
This was beyond frustrating! Raoul reached up and pulled on his hair, letting out a long moan. This didn't make him feel better either. “And I deserve it-I know.” He looked down at his pristine white night shift, still not dirty after spending so much time among the dirt. “I reacted poorly and… I'm very sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. I wish I could free you and we could be done with this place.” He chanced a glance at the cage, but shifted his gaze before he could see if the boy was looking. “When we get to Paris I will look for my wife. Surely she will see me and she'll be able to help.”   
There wasn't much else to say and Raoul was tired of talking to himself. He decided to just enjoy the walk as much as he could, given the circumstances. The boy had given a long yawn and laid down in the hay, so there wasn't even the option of trying to converse.   
Raoul was going to be very happy when he finally got home and he could be done with this odd nightmare.   
\----------------   
They hadn't reached the camp yet when the boy woke. Raoul had traveled up and down the line of gypsies, listened in on prattle, tried to spook a horse, and wandered into the forest for a bit to see a nearby creek. He was so tired of walking.  
“Awake again, young friend? Ready to talk yet?” Raoul asked as he came close to the cart.   
Even though he couldn't see his face, Raoul could practically feel the exasperated eye roll. The boy shifted close to the bars and leaned against them. “If you'll stop your whining, then yes.”   
Oh, thank goodness. He missed direct conversation. Raoul beamed at him and hoped the child knew how relieved he was.   
“I think I need a name for you, so I don't call you just ‘boy’ in my head.” Raoul rubbed his chin in thought. “What name did you have before ‘The Devil's Child'?”   
There was a moment's pause before he heard a quiet “Erik”.   
Raoul smiled at him. “That is a very good name. Well, Erik, when we get to Paris I'm going to find someone who can free you. Then we shall go to the Opera Populaire and I will have you meet my dear Christine.”   
This didn't comfort Erik at all. This ghost man was going to try and find someone to see him? And he held no hope that, should this happen, he wouldn't just follow this other person around and forget all about the whelp in the gypsy circus. No, he wouldn't say it out loud, but he knew Raoul would just disappear from his life once he reached Paris. Might as well enjoy him while he had him.  
It was hard to tell what Erik was feeling with the bag covering his face. Raoul hoped he felt better than before, at least. He continued talking and, when he felt he'd talked too much or spent too much time focused on Christine, he'd divert the conversation to asking the boy questions. So far, he now knew that Erik liked art and music which was perfect! He hoped Erik and Christine could bond over their shared interests.   
Erik didn't know what to do with such a talkative person. No one stuck around his cage for him to eavesdrop, and no one valued him enough to talk to him directly. It was good that this strange man took up most of the talking because it was refreshing to have someone focused on him, but also very informative. It made Erik feel almost normal, despite being in a rolling cage with a bag hiding his hideous face.   
Suddenly, the ringleader gave a shout from the front of the line and everyone came to a halt. Most gypsies jumped down from their carts and did a few stretches while the young ones began a game of tag. It seemed they were going to rest here for the night, then move on in the morning. Raoul sat on the ground and groaned. He hadn't noticed how tired his feet were until now! He'd been too occupied to notice the sun was about an hour from setting.   
Raoul rubbed his feet and looked up at the cage, but Erik had moved away from the bars. That was fine. He had gotten a bit out of him and it seemed the boy had forgiven him. At the moment, when Erik was all he had in this weird ghost-like existence, that was all that mattered.


	5. Chapter 5

Erik's cage wasn't lowered or brought to the fire. He was left in his confines as part of the outer caravan circle, far from everyone else. Raoul noted that, even though it must be chilly (and he thankfully couldn't feel it) the boy didn't seem to mind the autumn air.   
“What did you do before you died?”   
Raoul sat down in the dirt and laughed. “I'm not dead.” But after he said it aloud he became worried that maybe it wasn't such a ridiculous notion after all. His circumstance could be explained in such a way. “At least I hope I'm not. It would be rather embarrassing to die in a night shift.”   
Erik leaned as close to him as he could. “What did you do before being invisible?”   
Raoul gave him an unsure grin. “I never thought I'd hear something like that. Well… I was a rich man in Paris. I invested in the arts after my time in the navy and that's how I came across the Opera Populaire. And where I met Christine.” at this he blushed and looked away, still grinning. Gosh, just the mention of her name sent his heart aflutter.   
Erik kept his gaze focused on Raoul. “What is she like?”   
The man sighed and threw his hands up dramatically. “She is my Lotte! My everything!” He fell back against the hard ground and looked up at the stars. “We met when we were children. Her father played the violin and tutored me for a while. I enjoyed it well enough, but I was never good enough to do it professionally. And my family would have disowned me should I choose to live as a musician. But his daughter and I played by the sea every day.”   
Erik imagined the tale as Raoul spoke. Seeing the ocean, feeling the sand. He listened intently as Raoul detailed the way he fetched her scarf and came trudging back, soaking wet and smelling of salt and wet seaweed. How she laughed and hugged him anyway. Then how he had said goodbye when the Daee’s moved on to the next performance. It sounded very … pleasant and warm and sad and happy. Erik came back to himself to find he was smiling and it hurt his cheeks. He reached up to feel it beneath the mask, unsure of all that he was feeling.   
Raoul looked back over to him, seemingly worried. “Are you alright? I'm not boring you, am I?”   
“no.” Erik said gruffly. He laid down on the hay and curled close to the bars. For a moment, neither of them spoke, but just enjoyed this time of calm and basking in the attention of the only other person who would talk to them. It must be so lonely, Raoul thought, to live in a cage with no one to talk to. How had this child lasted so long?   
Not that he was unscathed. Erik didn't seem to have any manners about staring. Not that Raoul would ever blame him, given his circumstances, but it was unnerving to say the least. To see the bag turned his way with two piercing gold eyes focused on him as if he were the most interesting being in France.   
When he realized he had been staring back, equally as intense, he quickly shifted his gaze towards the caravan separating them from the fire. “So… you like music and art, do you? What else do you want to learn when we get to Paris?”   
After a moment, Erik said “I want to learn everything. Magic. And how to build things. How to swim.” He turned onto his back, no longer looking at Raoul. “But I'm not getting out of here. Master won't let me. He'll just beat me of I try.”   
Raoul flinched at the dark turn of the conversation, at how Eriks voice turned ice cold. “You will get out of here. And… and if I can't get you out and it turns out I am just a ghost… then I will teach you.”   
Erik scoffed and turned away. "Im not like you. I cant live out there." After a moments pause, he said “I shouldn't have hoped.”   
“Erik” He stood and stomped up to the cage, not daring to touch it. “Please. Don't lose hope. I will do everything I can to get you out.”   
But the boy didn't respond. He kept his back turned and seemed to fall asleep. Raoul sat back down and worried for them. For what awaited them in Paris, and whether or not he would truly be able to help this poor boy.


	6. Chapter 6

Raoul serpentined his way around the camp to keep himself occupied. The gypsies were laughing and enjoying themselves, the adults sewing or carving while the children chased each other in a game of tag. Raoul’s heart ached to see it, glancing back in the direction of Erik’s cage. When the forest around them was pitch black, the group all sat down around the fire and began eating some sort of stew by passing around a single ladle. Raoul shivered in disgust. How dirty. He was thankful not to feel hunger in this ghostly existence.   
By the time he'd made a couple loops through the caravans, most of the gypsies were done and saying goodnight before disappearing into their homes on wheels. Now that it wasn't so crowded, Raoul decided to go sit by the fire with the few gentlemen still awake.   
There was the man in charge of Erik sharpening a stick absentmindedly, talking to two other men who looked equally as intimidating. Each had scars on the parts of their arms that were exposed, with thick muscles from a lifetime of hard labor. The only way Raoul could tell the other two apart was the facial hair, since one had stubble and one had a beard. Other than that they looked exactly the same. Raoul guess they had to be twins.   
He decided to sit close enough to hear their conversation, though it made his skin crawl to be so near these bear-like men. Raoul looked down at his own arms. ‘I'm manly as well.’ He thought. ‘I'm not built in the image of a brick house, but I'm still intimidating, right?’   
Then he remembered he was in his lily white night shift next to three hulking gypsy men and determined that he had to start working out when he got home.   
After a few minutes of the men talking in a different language that Raoul guessed was most likely Romanian, he decided that he wasn't going to hear any gossip from the group. He leaned back and sighed. Oh well, it was worth a shot. But suddenly, the men's tone changed; they became more hushed, leaning in like they were conspiring. The boys master laughed loudly, obviously too drunk to think of keeping quiet. He answered something happily and fumbled at his hip for something. The men all stood and made their way to the outer circle of the caravans, then to Erik’s cage.  
The man found what he was looking for which turned out to be a large ring of keys. He attempted to put the key in a few times as the men laughed and nudged him. By now, Erik had woken to see what the noise was about. He sat up slowly, taking in that it was still night time, there were three men at his cage, and they were all very drunk.   
Raoul could do nothing but watch helplessly as they finally got the door open and easily dragged the boy out. One of the men found a rope and tied it around his neck like a leash, which was incredibly funny to the other two. The boy's master took hold of the lead and yanked, causing Erik to tumble onto all fours, then barked a command that made Erik go still. The men slowly made their way back over to the fire with Erik following behind, crawling like a dog. Raoul followed behind, wishing he could give these men a piece of his mind.   
The leader sat down on a log, then dragged Erik to crouch in front of him, between his seat and the fire. The other two kept up a steady prattle that meant nothing to Raoul, but was probably demeaning towards their captive. One reached over to remove the bag and the other quickly gripped his hair to force him to look up at them. Erik shook. His expression was a mask of anger, but with fear clearly underneath.   
The man with the leash crooned something almost sweetly and took hold of the boys jaw, then quickly let go and gave him a forceful slap across the cheek. Erik looked down after that.   
The bearded men scraped the large cauldron for the last of the soup, blowing on it a couple times before holding it near the boy's face. Erik tentatively leaned over, expecting it to be taken away, and right before he had reached his lips to the rim of the ladle, the man splashed the hot stew into his face! The men all laughed as he howled in pain, reaching up to wipe it off with his arm. The leader snapped an order at him again, pointing down at the chunks left over from the soup, intermixed in the dirt and liquid remains. Erik shook his head, which got him another slap, then his leash was pulled down to force his head onto the ground right in front of one of the bits. Erik kept his mouth shut.   
With a growl, the leader pulled him back up and shook him, demanding something at him. Erik kept his eyes diverted, but refused what was asked of him.   
The other two began pushing the boy around, occasionally kicking him for good measure. This went on for a good while until Erik was completely disoriented and beaten. He lay in the dirt, breathing hard and limp from exhaustion, unable to even sit up. The leader plucked a piece of soft carrot from the dirt, then held it to the boys mouth again. When he made no move to take it it was shoved past his teeth. Erik struggled pathetically as his mouth was held shut by a hand almost the size of his face. Soon though, he gave up and swallowed.   
The men again found this hilarious and began taunting him, holding out the other chunks from the ground, which thankfully he was not actually forced to eat. The men gave up and resumed conversation with Erik lying on his side in front of them like some forgotten pet, unimportant and dismissable. The twins would sometimes reach down and study his face forcefully, but erik didnt have the energy to stop them. He took it with a glare, but soon after didn't have the energy for that either. Once they were done poking and prodding him, he was led back to his cage and thrown in, though his leash was not removed.   
Raoul hurried over to check on him, but the boy had already passed out. Raoul didn't know how much more he could cry for this poor boy, but he let his tears seal his resolve to get him out of here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Raoul cries a lot. He was very in touch with his emotional side in the book too.   
>  Escape is immanent, probably next chapter.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Emotional stuff, mostly. Erik learns that maybe someone out there does care

At dawn, when the sun wasn't visible but there was some light filtering through the camp, the circus members woke and began organizing the caravans to start traveling again. Erik hadn't stirred or moved at all since being put back in his cage, which made Raoul fear the worst. But once again he could do nothing but call out to him. He tried reaching out once, but became so frustrated when his hand passes straight through him that he shook and had to walk away for a while. He would have to wait and see if the boy was alive.   
The master came over, holding his head like it was going to burst, and checked the cage door. Once he was sure it was locked he threw the dirty sack that was discarded last night into the cage. He hmmed when he noticed Erik wasn't moving, but didn't move to wake him and instead readied his horse.  
Raoul walked alongside the cage as it ambled after the rest of the group. After avoiding horse manure for a half hour or so, Raoul remembered to be thankful that he couldn't smell in this state.   
“Why do you care so much about me?”   
Raoul gasped and turned to see that Erik was awake, though he was swaying with the cart and what looked to be exhaustion. The bag was back on his head and the rope leash removed, but his body was hunched, breathing hard, shaky.  
Raoul mustered his most sincere look and said “You're an innocent. A child. They have been hurting you and you don't deserve it.”   
“I'm a monster.” Erik spat at him with as much energy as he could stand. “I DO deserve it.” He wheezed and clung to the bars. It was hard to tell exactly what he was thinking with the sack in the way, but Raoul knew whatever his expression would show, it wouldn't be good.   
“listen to me.” Raoul trotted over to the side of the cage, careful not to touch and slip through on accident in case that made Erik feel unsafe. He didn't want to ruin his safety barrier, especially now when the boy was showing his real feelings. Erik looked up marginally to look at him. “You are not a monster.” erik scoffed and turned away. “Listen to me!” Raoul exclaimed. “Your face may have led you to be here but that does not make you an unlovable beast! I don't know the full story of how you came to be here but I know with absolute certainty that whoever left you here was wrong!”  
Erik looked back at him sharply at that. After a beat of silence the boy wrapped his dirty, bone thin finger around the bars and rest his head against them. His eyes flashed bright yellow from the holes in the bag. “you've seen me. You know what I am. How can you still say that I am not a devil? I have been thrust in front of hundreds of people and they have never stopped to help me.”   
“fools, all of them.”   
“YOU are the fool!” with a quick motion, Erik threw himself away from Raoul and to the middle of the cage. Raoul willed his frustrated tears to leave him and continued marching on with the rest of the caravans. He spent a few moments distracting himself and concentrating on keeping up with the rest of the group, which were far enough away to be uninterested in what went on back here, but also too far for Raoul to listen in on their conversations. Too bad, for he would have welcomed the back and forth between other people, even if he couldn't be a part of it or speak their language.   
He felt so lost. He wished Christine was here. He wished for the millionth time he was back in Paris where his biggest problem was some annoying ghostly figure singing in the walls. But what happens if he gets home and still can't help Erik? Can't get him free? Erik is the only person he's been able to talk to in all this time, but he often doesn't have the energy to talk or gets upset at what he says.   
But he can't let him continue living thinking he's some beast to be beaten. The boy had admitted that he felt he at least partially deserves it! What sort of horrible life had he been living to start to agree with his tormentors? It may make him upset, but maybe if he continues, then Erik will realize at least someone thinks something of him.   
“Erik…. I know you've been through a lot. And I've only been with you for a little over a week. But I care about you. I care about what you like and what you want to do with your time. I care that you're hurting. And I care about how you think of yourself. I know that fat pig has told you that you're some Devil's Child, but he's wrong. You are a child-a brilliant and strong child! I want to take you to Paris and give you a real life away from these gypsies and from this cage.” Raoul stopped when he heard sniffing from the cage.  
Erik was hunched completely over and shaking. He took off the bag slowly, then turned to look at Raoul with devastating sadness. His sunken cheeks were wet with tears and his eyes were rimmed red, giving his pale complexion an even scarier look.   
He held himself tightly, trying to stop his sobs from shaking him any further. “look me in the eyes… and tell me I am no monster.” When Raoul did not immediately respond, he crawled back to the bars. “Look at my face… and tell me my mother was wrong to abandon me.”   
Raoul opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't make any sound come. Erik huffed angrily and went to turn away, but Raoul, in desperation, shot out a hand to catch his impossibly thin wrist to make him stop. Both were surprised when it made contact.   
Raoul faltered and almost let go, but kept holding him until they locked eyes again. “I. Care. About. You.”   
Erik eyed him for a good while, but slumped in defeat, letting the tears fall freely. Raoul moved his hand to hold Erik’s and stroked his thumb along the back of his hand.   
“You're wrong to care. You'll be leaving for Paris soon.”   
Raoul gave his hand a squeeze. “WE are leaving for Paris soon. I will not abandon you.”   
The rest of their walk was spent with Raoul chattering about what they could do in Paris once they were free. Erik listened and hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long and STILL isn't the escape scene


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The escape!

When they finally made camp, it was in a clearing about half a mile from Paris. The sun was setting, leaving little daylight for the group to set up.  
Raoul looked off in the distance where lights were just barely visible over the treetops, making him ache to get to them. “Tonight.” He promised the boy. “We will get you out tonight.”  
And it seemed that it was a possibility, since the caravan leader was already drunk. Erik’s jailor was in a similar state, but not drunk enough to be any less of a threat.  
But maybe drunk enough to sneak the keys off of.  
Erik was weak and hungry, but there was a fire in his eyes; a need that had not been present before. Perhaps the proximity to Paris had made it seem more obtainable, or perhaps Raoul’s sudden ability to touch him gave him the proof he needed that he had a real shot at freedom. It was almost frightening to see the boy so focused after days of melancholy. Raoul would not waste this chance, now that it was here. The boys determination would have to be enough to power through the physical weakness of his body.  
Raoul spent the while talking Erik through what they would have to do. Play along. Coax his master into thinking this was just another night of abuse with no fight, then wait until everyone left and grab the keys off of him. He'd be too drunk at that point to fight him off, leaving them precious seconds to escape.  
Erik nodded along, knowing he didn't have any muscle to do it before he was beaten. After years of this, tonight would be the hardest to go through, knowing salvation lay waiting just after it was over. But he could do this. He had to.  
They still had time before everything was set up and Erik had already been moved into his tent, waiting in the dark for the customers to appear. “Tell me about Christine again.” He asked out of the blue.  
Raoul, sitting in the dirt just across from him and separated by the bars, looked up and smiled. It was shaky, for he was just as nervous as Erik and ready to get away from this nightmare, but remembering his love helped him get through. “She is fierce. She has a spirit like no other I've known. And she has beautiful eyes. Not as beautiful as yours-”  
Raoul clicked his mouth shut and froze. “I… I didn't mean!” He shares an uncomfortable stare with Erik before laughing and saying “I'm sorry. They are beautiful. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.”  
“I'm not” he lied, but a blush creeping up his cheeks gave him away. His eyes were beautiful? Not freakish or cat-like? This was certainly the first time he'd heard that!  
“Once you meet her I think you'll like her. Beautiful, graceful… she's the perfect woman.”  
“Demon! Get that mask on before anyone sees you!” A man said as he came into the tent, lighting the torches along the walls. “Who's going to pay to see you if you give them a free show?”  
Raoul keeps quiet, suddenly on high alert now that they have a secret escape plan. This would be the worst time for others to suddenly be able to see him. They both watch the man make a circle around them, lighting the room little by little along the way. Once he's done he exits the tent, opening the flap enough for Raoul to see a few people milling about outside. He gets a chill down his spine in anticipation.  
He turns back to Erik to talk more about Paris and everything it has to offer. Better than thinking about the near future.  
\------------  
“Come, come inside! Come and see the Devil's Child!”  
Raoul was positively vibrating next to the cage as he watched people filter in. This was it. One last round of being helpless, of watching this boy get degraded and hurt and not being able to do anything, of listening to his cries that no one else seems to be able to hear. They would get out of here. He just wished the drunken fool would hurry up!  
Javert, the fat pig, had to make a real show of it, talking of how they had captured the wildling feasting on a dead horse, carnal and dangerous, but they had beaten him back! Some of the young boys raised their fists at the tale, enthralled in the violence and justice served! Others gasped and stared down at the pitiful looking boy in horror, clutching children close to their legs.  
After his story he stepped into the cage, leaving it open either because he was too drunk or to add to the crowds fright. After stumbling a pace, he reached for his whip and brought it down upon the boy again and again, making the people gathered startle and mutter loudly. Then, he reached down to violently tear the bag away from his head, exposing the decaying face of the beast! Two in the crowd turned and left in disgust, but many others exclaimed before crowding closer. The next few minutes were spent throwing coins upon the boy, demanding that he look at them again. Javert gripped him by the hair and jerked him around to look at everyone, breathing his foul liquor stench on his face as he laughed. Then, finally, the crowd was ushered out and Javert was left to pick up coins from the hay.  
Raoul gave the boy a nod before Erik leapt onto the man's back, toppling him over onto his side and disorienting him long enough to grab his keys. As he made to move towards the cage door, Javert grabbed his ankle and yanked! Erik fell, losing his grip on the keys. He looked around him in the hay for only a second before Javert climbed on top of him, pressing his sweat covered body on top of him. He gave the boy a grin and reached down to his pants. “No!” Erik screamed and, in sheer terror, slammed a fist into the man's head. He went down heavy, still laying on his legs. Erik squirmed madly to get away, putting distance between them. Javert lay unconscious.  
“You're free!” Raoul said, smiling so hard it almost hurt. He let out a laugh. “Come on! We must go!”  
Erik continued to look down at the man. The bastard who had beaten him for years. Now laying helplessly in front of him. He reached down to the man's own whip, coiling it tightly to his fist and ever so slowly looped the other end around Javert’s neck.  
“Erik... No.” Raoul went to his side. “What are you doing? You have to leave.”  
Erik grit his teeth and pulled the whip tight. Javert gurgled a moment, eyes fluttering, but didn't move to stop him and clearly still unconscious. Raoul looked to the tent flap, panicked. “Please. You can't kill him, Erik. How will you live with yourself?”  
“He deserves this.” Erik said, quickly losing strength. “I have to!”  
“You need to escape while you can!” Raoul said, nearly panicked. “We can call the authorities once we're free. But don't kill him. Please, Erik. Please”  
Suddenly his arms start shaking and he loses his will. The rope slides out of the fingers and Javert falls forward, coughing. The boy grabs his bag, walks out of the cage on shaky legs, and locks the man inside.  
Raoul breathes a sigh of relief and rests a hand on Eriks shoulder. “Thank you, Erik. I swear, you won't regret this.”  
But the boy is shaking, sobbing, and looks up at Raoul with pure misery. “I couldn't do it. I'm too weak.”  
Raoul bends down , scooping the boy up and carrying him like a small child. Surprisingly, Erik seems to melt into the contact. “I'm so sorry for everything you went through. But now we are free. And we will be so much happier without his death on our hands.” He runs his hand through the boys hair and just holds him for a moment. “Can you walk? Are you feeling up to it?”  
Erik nods and wipes his face when he's on his own two feet again. He puts the bag in place, then moved to the edge of the tent, away from the flap. They both slip under it and into the forest beyond.  
With every step, Erik seems lighter. He laughs to himself after a few minutes, enjoying the sound and feel of it. Then, he breaks into a light hearted song in Romanian, spinning as he walks and grinning from ear to ear. Raoul laughs jovially with him, beyond happy to see him so high spirited. “You sing like an angel!” he tells him.  
“I'm going to Paris!”Erik exclaims to the stars. “And no one can stop me!”  
Raoul picks him up and spins him before giving him a piggyback ride. Erik accepts, feeling very tired. Then, once they reach the first real road, he breaks into a light jog, which wakes him from his doze and reawakens his curiosity. Soon they are surrounded by buildings and street lamps, but it's late enough that no one else is out and about.  
Raoul gestures with his head to different buildings, telling the boy what each of them are and some funny stories of any he's had dealings with. Erik laughs along and listens with rapt attention.  
They reach the Opera Populaire, where he knows Christine will be sleeping down in the dancers rooms. He needs to get to her and explain all of this. Maybe rest in one of the storage rooms since he's exhausted and has no way of getting home. He sets Erik down and tells him that they will stay here for the night, just until they can go to his home and get everything sorted. The front doors are locked, as are most of the windows, but when he tests one of the grates to the basement tunnels he finds it unlocked and just big enough to fit in. Erik slips in first and looks around at all the props, then back up to Raoul. The man shimmies down, remembering he is in nothing but a night shift, and finally lands with a thump. He grins to the boy, takes a step forward, then suddenly disappears between the rays of moonlight, leaving Erik alone in the basement as if the man had never been there at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is more! I'm not leaving it here


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Raoul returns to his proper time, much to his confusion

Raoul stumbled, feeling himself shift as if his foot had slipped further than he had expected. The room he had entered with Erik was suddenly different in ways he couldn't explain at first glance. On closer inspection, he saw that it had more dust, a few things shoved into the corner he hasn't noticed before, and he could suddenly feel the cold stone floor against his bare feet. In front of him there was a small wooden chair with a stack of dusty clothes and a small folded note.   
He took another cautious step, then picked up the note from the stack. It was old and frail with curly writing that said  
‘Raoul,

If you're real and not just some figment of my childhood imagination, you're probably going to need some clothes other than that night gown. Take these, if you can touch them.   
Christine will be where you remember her, most likely. I, on the other hand, will not. But don't worry. Remove the candle holder from the wall to the right of the prima donna’s dressing room as soon as you can. Make sure no one sees you. A door will open and will lead you to where I am. 

Hopefully awaiting your return,  
Erik. ‘

Raoul felt confusion at everything he was reading. It was so confusing, in fact, that his brain couldn't even properly take it all in.   
He felt absolutely exhausted, but he had to settle this. Now.   
New vigor coursed through him with every piece of clothing he put on; a puffy white shirt, tight brown leggings, socks, and boots. He quickly made his way out of the room.   
It took him probably a good half hour to find his way out of the storage rooms and onto the ground floor of the Opera House. By now, the sun was coming up and glinting off the golden window frames. Raoul took a shaky breath and wiped away the tears that threatened to fall. He'd longed for this for so many days. To see all this again, to smell the fresh flowers, to be caught up in the flow and bustle of the business. He almost faltered when he thought of how he had promised young Erik such things. And now … well, according to the note he was here, or at least had been at some point. And if he wasn't too late, he may see him in just a moment.   
His feet ached when he passed into the main foyer. A few maids were dusting and gossiping close by. It took Raoul a moment to realize they could see him, as one made a not so quiet comment about how determined he looked at such an early hour. Raoul blushed slightly. If this became hot gossip, it would probably involve something unseemly with Christine.  
He stood before the changing room door, just the way he remembered it. Now to see if this works. Raoul reached up carefully to remove the candle holder, letting out a gasp when the whole thing came off the wall. He panicked for a moment for a way to explain this should anyone ask, then jumped again when a part of the wall slid sideways and made a small door.   
The inside was dark and drafty. The only light seeping in was from the grates along the wall, thankfully lighting the walkway enough to know if he would trip. It was frightening, but if this is where Erik was, he needed answers and to see that he was alright. He slipped the candle holder back in place, the hopped over the threshold right as it snapped back.  
For what felt like eternity, he walked the hidden passage along the wall, down a set of stone stairs, into a cold and damp room, across a bridge, down more stairs, then finally to a pitch black lake. Even the candles that periodically lined the walls couldn't tell him how deep it was.   
“This is bizarre.” Raoul muttered. He looked across the lake, but couldn't see where the water would end. It simply stretched on into nothing. Darkness.   
“ERIK!” He screamed, cupping his hands around his mouth. “Erik! Are you there?!”   
Looked like he would just have to make his way across the water.   
“Oh, God.” Raoul moaned as he removed a torch from the wall to attach to the front of the boat. “I'm going to go all the way out there and get stuck and die!” but he clamored onto the boat nonetheless and rowed out into the water. There was a bend in the river, then another, around the pillars of the Opera house, until he saw a light from the tunnel ahead. He wanted to shout again, but thought better of it in case there was danger ahead. God, he was tired. Why couldn't Erik be in a house nearby, or meet him in an office? Why did he have to drag himself into the pits of hell when he had JUST walked a mile in the forest with a child on his back?   
What lay around the bend astounded him. Candles everywhere, a beautiful organ resting on the shore of a platform, an expensive fainting chair placed nearby, and gauzy drapes along the stone walls. It was an ethereal scene.   
And in the center of it, emerging from behind the organ and shuffling through music sheets, was a tall, darkly dressed man with slicked black hair and a proud stance. He was older than Raoul, but there was no denying who this was. Opposite of a handsome visage was a porcelain mask, covering what Raoul knew to be a haunting deformity. One he'd seen what felt like mere moments ago.   
“Erik.” Raoul breathed, unable to form any other words. But it was enough.   
Erik looked up sharply, dropping every paper and hesitating only a second before he ran down to the stairs, into the water and waded his way to the boat.   
“By the heavens, Erik, you're going to get yourself soaked!” Raoul laughed and steadied the boat as the man climbed aboard. They both crouched and stared until Erik tackled him in a strong hug. “Careful or you'll tip us over!” he pushed back to get a good look at the man that had been a young boy just this morning. “I don't understand. We just escaped a few mere hours ago. How are you-”  
“Raoul, I have been waiting for so long. So long. I..” Erik crumpled in his arms and sobbed. “I didn't think you were coming. I thought I had made you up. My heart couldn't take waiting in that room for you any longer.”   
Raoul embraced him, feeling his own tears coming. “You waited?”   
“Every morning at sunrise for at least two years.” Erik kissed his cheek. “Then when I felt I was going to die from pure misery, I stopped. But then I thought I had missed your arrival, so I put the clothes and the note there, hoping you would someday see it.” they locked eyes once again. “I think about you every day. I owe so much to you.”   
Raoul didn't know what to say, but saw the longing, the lost little boy in his pale eyes. Finally he said. “Bring us to shore and tell me all I've missed. You have grown so much, Erik. Tell me everything.”   
After a moment's hesitation, he finally nodded and let him go. With a few powerful strokes they were at the shore and carefully climbing out of the boat.  
Erik settled him on the couch and told him everything. How he had spent days lost and alone in the storage rooms until the smell of food brought him to the kitchen. How he accidentally got noticed by the manager during a rehearsal where he was seated up in box 5 to secretly watch the performance. And from that moment on grew to be very close with the previous manager who set him up with a salary as long as he composed periodic pieces and acted as a watchdog from behind the scenes. There were many things Erik did around the Opera house, in fact. But always in secret. Always away from people. Raoul gripped his hand, thankful when Erik melted into the contact instead of shying away.   
“I met Christine when she first came here. She was exactly as you said, but she was so young. I put together that I might not see you again for a very long time, if you were similar in age. I have become a music coach of sorts for her. She is incredibly talented.”   
“Wait.” Raoul interjected. “You are her vocal coach? Her hidden angel?”   
Erik looked a little taken back. “Yes, I suppose. I don't think ‘angel' is-”  
“You're the phantom of the opera.” Raoul paled. “The phantom is real. So… you have.. killed people…”   
When Raoul tried to pull away Erik latched onto his arm to keep him in place, looking shocked. “No, of course not! I have never killed anyone!”   
“But-” Raoul sat back down, thinking it over. “Before I was with you at the circus, there were stories of horrible ‘accidents’ around the Opera. They say it is the phantom who kills anyone who makes him mad.”   
Erik sighs and loosens his grip. “And if you hadn't stopped me that night, I probably would have become what you remember.” He takes a moment to collect his thoughts for what he wants to say next. “I was so… angry and hurt and vulnerable. I thought taking his miserable life in my own hands would make it all magically better. But you stopped me. And I told myself I couldn't do it, but in the back of my mind I knew I could. But I wanted to leave with you, Raoul. I wanted that so badly that I left him there alive. And when we walked our way to freedom I felt so unburdened. I wouldn’t be captured ever again. And after meeting the manager, I grew more and more thankful that I didn't have blood on my hands. The memory of you has kept me sane all these years. I needed you, Raoul.” Raoul’s breath hitches when those beautiful golden eyes stare so deeply into his he feels entranced. “I still need you.”   
When Raoul felt he could speak again, he stammered “You have me, Erik. I'm right here. And I won't disappear again.”   
To his immense shock, this got him another kiss on the cheek, but it lingered and felt more tender. Raoul was uncomfortably reminded that this Erik was no longer the one he remembered. This was a man.   
"Let's continue tonight, after some sleep. We are both exhausted." Erik decided and stood. "I made a room for you, should you ever return."   
Raoul shook those thoughts from his head and rose to follow him. "That's very kind Erik, but you didn't have to-"  
The room is built and painted to look like the beach. Even with it only lit by candles, Raoul can see there is immeasurable detail in the painting of the waves and the clouds. The sheets are pure silk. It is gorgeous and inviting and reminds Raoul of the stories he told the boy of his times along the coast.   
"Goodnight, Raoul." Erik says, lingering in the doorway a moment more before he leaves. Raoul slides onto the bed and falls asleep within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still more to come.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A look at the opera house before serious Raoul/Christine/Erik interactions

After waking, Erik helped him find his way back to the surface. It was about midday, so most everyone was either rehearsing onstage or preparing costumes. It felt wrong being here. Raoul had expected something different. To wake from a nap and find that no one had missed him, because to them he had never truly left, felt anticlimactic.   
“What have you told Christine about us?” Raoul asked while they were still standing in the wall.   
Erik hesitated. “I merely asked if she knew you. This was when I had first started appearing to her. She thought me a ghost, so she took this to be some spectral ability of mine, to know personal details of her childhood.”   
“Did you correct her?”  
“Yes.” He said gruffly. “There are few who still think me a spectre. And that is fine. I don't go out much.”  
“Such a frightening ghost you would be.” Raoul said plainly, then reached up on his tiptoes and enveloped the man in a warm hug. “You're so tall now! Just yesterday I was able to carry you on my back!”  
Erik laughed and leaned into the hug. “Raoul, how I have missed you.” It was said with such love and heart wrenching affection that Raoul had to blink back a few tears. If only he had a say in how he had returned. He would never have chosen to leave the boy alone for so many years.   
Raoul broke the embrace, smiling to hide his sadness. “When shall we meet again?”   
“Soon. I will be tutoring Christine later tonight. You can always join us.” Erik said and, when he smiled, Raoul could see the stretched skin of his deformed upper lip, partially revealed from under the mask. It served as a reminder that this WAS his Erik, deformity and all.   
Raoul agreed quickly, then gave him one last pat on the shoulder before walking out of the wall and into the hallway. When he turned back, the entry had already been sealed again.   
\--------------  
Christine was happy to see him, as she usually was, but didn't jump up to greet him as if he'd been missing for over a week. He would have greatly enjoyed if she had.  
It was the dancers break period which meant they had a few minutes to talk. Raoul didn't know what to say, unsure of how time had truly changed for them, so instead he told her of how beautiful she looked and how lucky he was to have her. A few of the maids and other chorus girls giggled and pretended they weren't listening.   
“Raoul!” Christine laughed, blushing. She lightly slapped his arm, then moved to hold his hand. Christine spent the rest of their remaining time telling him about how excited she was for the play they were to do after this one. She would be getting solo parts as long as Carlotta kept her complaints to herself.   
Now that Raoul knew who The Phantom was, he noticed that Christine was different. She didn't look so haunted when she mentioned her meeting with her tutor, there was no gleam of desperation in her eye. She seemed content now; confident where before she had been wary. He wondered at why that would be.   
When it was time for her to get back to dancing, Raoul wandered his way to the manager's office to see what sort of changes he found there. The names on the plaque were the same, so at least it would be familiar faces.   
And they were familiar, right down to the muttering and grumpy looks. Raoul sat and watched them bicker about ticket sales and other such things. His attention, though, became fully invested when Eriks same was mentioned.  
“I don't believe we mentioned, but Erik wanted to put forth another play.” Andre said casually as he lifted a leather bound folder stuffed with music sheets. “We already agreed, since his last one was such a hit.”  
“And people LOVE the mystery behind the composer.” Firmin chuckled. “If only they knew what working with him was like!”   
M. Andre waved him off. “He's a diva all on his own! But he does produce beautiful music. We hope it is alright that we have already agreed.”   
Raoul was shocked at the casualness of their relationship with the opera ghost, but nodded anyway. Perhaps that's why Christine was so excited for the play. Why didn't Erik tell him?  
“Will he be directing the rehearsals then?” Raoul asked.  
Both men groaned. “No, he insists on being anonymous, even among the cast!” “He did this with the last play as well. Staying up in some secret place and having Madame Giry send out notes from him on how to improve.”   
Raoul smiled a bit. He was getting a good picture of what adult Erik was like and it was quirky, but very charming. If Raoul didn't know better, he would think Erik did this just to annoy the managers.   
He stays and talks about finances for a while, sharing a drink or two, then Raoul went back to wandering the Opera house. It was largely the same. But the energy was so different. Nobody looking over their shoulder or hesitating before walking down a dark hallway. So many little things had changed.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Important story fill before we get to the E/C/R hurt comfort stuff

Christine led him to another secret door behind a prop screen, activated by twisting a corner panel piece and sliding the door to the left. The draft that came out of it was chilling, but Christine seemed unbothered by it, so Raoul made no comment for her to take his jacket. Christine didn't like being treated like a dainty flower.   
They went on in silence, but Christine seemed anxious. Raoul knew he should ask, but had the irrational fear that his time in the past may come up and didn't feel prepared to answer. Or worse. Lie.   
Erik met them halfway down the tunnel and escorted them to his home, which Raoul had seen the day before. Christine kept sending furtive glances his way, as if she were expecting him to bolt. It suddenly became clear that Christine thought he had never met Erik and was afraid of his reaction. He looked to the man in question who was sitting himself down at the organ.   
“We have met before, my dear. No need to jump to my defense.” Erik said smoothly without even looking up. For a second, he smiled a knowing smile, then turned to hide his face. “In fact, we have known each other for a very long time.”   
“Oh.” Christine said, shocked. She looked between the two. “Why didn't you say anything?”  
Raoul took her hand. “I didn't know how. Our relation is an… odd tale.” But it seemed like she would not be happy until she heard it. Christine made a face and intentionally sat herself down on one of the lounging chairs behind her, sharing her look between the two of them.   
“well…” Erik started, then cleared his throat. “It's not a happy tale until much later.”   
It took a minute, but once it was clear she wouldn't budge, Erik started talking. He kept himself turned so he could hide his face, but Raoul wasn't having it. Before he could start his tale properly, he was dragged over to the couch to settle in the middle, facing Christine but with Raoul as a comfortable presence behind him. It shocked her to see him so familiar with her teacher.   
“When I was very small, my mother sold me to a circus. I was kept in a cage and beaten during the shows, whipped until I couldn't think straight and fed very little to keep me skeletal and weak. After years of this I felt I couldn't take any more. And then I woke to find Raoul in my tent.” there was a small, tentative, playful smirk. “He wore only a nightgown.”   
Raoul blushed fiercely. “It wasn't my fault! I did not conjure myself there!”   
Before Christine could voice her confusion, Erik elaborated. “We still aren't sure how it happened, but somehow Raoul was, in the simplest term, a spectre. As if he were a ghost who could witness, but not touch. He came to me and saw my abuse. And when the time came, he helped me escape to lead me to the opera house.”   
“But you've been working here for decades. How-”   
Raoul reached across to her and took her hand. “I don't know, Christine. I swear to you. It confounds me even now. But I was somehow sent to the past right when he had need of me. And once I passed the threshold of the Opera House, I was back in my own time. Yesterday morning, in fact.”   
Erik looked sad once again, staring at Raoul and Christine's joined hands near his own. “And I waited.”   
Christine took it in stride, still seeming cautious. “If it weren't coming from the two men I trust most, I wouldn't believe it.” There was a flicker of something close to pity before she grabbed Erik’s bony hand in her other one. He looked up to meet her gaze. “That must have been so hard for you. Waiting for him to return.”   
Erik just nodded, looking stricken with too much emotion. Raoul pressed closely to him and said “If I could change how it happened I would.”  
“It's for the best.” Erik said quickly. “I had a chance to establish myself without my new dependency on you. And you needed to return home. To your Christine.” And though he didn't have a clear view of Erik’s face, he could hear the heartbreak in it. There wasn't any time to speculate on it before the man stood and made his way to the organ to gather his music. “No lesson today. You can find your way back, I presume.” With a twirl of his cape, Erik had disappeared through a dark doorway and was gone.   
Raoul stood as if to go after him, but was stopped by Christine's hand still interlocked in his.   
“He does this sometimes, when he gets emotional. Let us go somewhere we can talk.”   
Raoul didn't want to leave him when he was hurting so bad, but conceded. The two turned and made their way for the boat.


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't worry. They'll figure it out eventually.

“He is a very moody beast, our Erik.” Christine says as they settle on a couch. Raoul thinks to reprimand her terminology, but she says it with affection, so he decides she doesn't mean it cruelly. “You didn't believe me two days ago, before you “returned” from your time in the past. Not many people know him and think he's some joke around the Opera. Makes it more mysterious and brings in the customers.” She looks down, a hint of shame across her face. “And… I like having this secret. It's special, to know him so closely when others revere him without even knowing what he looks like.”   
Raoul, who has been watching closely for everyone's reactions since his return, wishes to say “Do you love him?” but stops himself. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer anyway. God, she was so beautiful. He had missed her calm presence so much.  
Christine looks up at him sharply. “What has changed?”   
How to answer that when he himself doesn't fully know? “Well… this is not the existence I left. He wasn't known by anyone in, uh… my original existence. You often spoke of him as if he were an angel that you were scared to make angry. I didn't believe you before, since you were the only one he ever spoke to. He had supposedly done... many bad things. But it's different now. You aren't afraid of him. And the managers seem to work well with him.” He takes a minute. “You said he was your angel of music. And when I met him in the past, he was musically gifted. So it stands to reason that, in all times, he has been artistic.”   
Christine looked pleased until he mentioned the possible crimes he had committed, but brightened again at the mention of his musical talent. “Oh he is!” she said. “have you heard him sing? Or play any instrument?”   
Again, Raoul could see that gleam in her eye. One that had been only for him just a day ago. “No.” He responded automatically; longingly. “But I did hear him sing as a child. I can only imagine what age and practice has done for him.”  
They shared a moment of silence, both contemplating what opportunities they had missed with the mysterious man that the other had gotten to experience. Raoul ached to know what she was thinking, even if it broke his heart. Just so he could know for sure if he had lost two people who mattered so much. He took her hand in his, hoping to find strength enough to be alright with her decision.   
Christine surprised him by kissing him on the cheek. It was quick, but it was something they had not done yet. At least, they hadn't where Raoul was from. Her grip tightened and she smiled. “You look so sad, Raoul. Are you upset that he has changed so much?”   
The truth would be yes, because now he was uncertain again, which wasn't fair since he had gone through two weeks of utter confusion and terror, thinking he would never get to have this exact moment and he would be a ghost forever. It wasn't fair that his life was flipped upside down in such little ways that ended up being the most important. It wasn't fair that the boy he saved became a man he loved and that his Christine might also love. But all he could say was “No. I'm very happy for him.” which wasn't very convincing at all.   
But he wanted to be happy for them. And he was. But at the moment it was drowned out by the overwhelming sadness he had, feeling that he most certainly had lost something important along the way.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long! I rewrote this like 4 times and had Raoul at home pacing, but couldn't figure out where to go from that, so I completely redid it.

Erik startled awake when one of the bells started ringing, meaning that someone had tripped his security wire. Fantastic. Just what he needed.  
He grumbled and pulled himself out of bed, then slipped his mask on before getting dressed. Hopefully he could find the problem, scare them off, and go back to bed.   
He walked the paths in the dark with sure feet, since he knew every tunnel like the back of his own hand. Whatever poor sod had stumbled down here had picked one of his less lethal tunnels, at least. There were four traps along this particular path, all of which were pit related. He had taken out the spikes at Christine's request, since some “innocent” person may “accidentally” find his secret tunnel. He passed the first one -empty - and made his way to the next one a few meters along where a half burnt out torch lay next to the edge. Well. That took out the guesswork at least. This also meant the person had bypassed the first two, so they were aware of the traps. This could be dangerous.  
Carefully, Erik peeked his head over the side and discovered a familiar figure.   
“Raoul?” He called down. Sure enough, the blonde whipped his head up, looking sweaty and exhausted, but incredibly relieved. His hands were covered in dirt from trying to climb out. Erik sent his noose down the side and helped the vicomte back up. It took more than one try since both men were exhausted, but eventually Raoul was able to scramble up.  
Once he was standing next to the man, Erik laughed. “Well, this look certainly isn't new. At least you can hold things this time.”   
Raoul blushed scarlet and looked down at himself. He was in his night shift with slip on loafers and a light jacket. He looked back up, still red. “I needed to um… speak with you.”   
Erik picked up the torch and walked it to a holder in the wall. Now, the pathway was lit and Raoul could see his friends face a bit better. Erik looked as tired as he felt and suddenly he felt more than silly being here so late. “I woke you. I'm so sorry, Erik, I-”  
“I'm already awake. And you don't look like you'll be getting any sleep until you tell me, so get on with it.” His tone wasn't angry; more of an exasperated fondness. That made him feel better at least.  
Now that he was here, looking at Eriks expectant face, he found all the words brimming within him shut away. He had to say it right now or he never would. But he didn't feel strong enough to. He fidgeted his fingers and huffed. “It is a difficult subject.”  
Erik raised a brow at him. “Try me.”  
Raoul crossed his arms defensively. “Do you… love Christine?” Not where he meant to take it, but…  
Erik looked equally surprised. “What brought this on? I… I suppose I do. Like any teacher loves their student-”  
“No, not that love. Do you think of her romantically?” It was easier to direct the conversation away from himself. At least for now. But his chest still burned with what he really wanted to ask.  
Suddenly, Erik did not look at him fondly. He took a step back, into the shadows, and growled “You come here to mock me.”   
Raoul startled at the reaction. He had never seen Erik so frightening in real life. Only what the ballet girls tittered about in the other time, and that had always seemed far fetched. Now, he could see it and it froze his heated skin immediately. “No… No, Erik. I'm not here to mock. I'm here to understand.”  
Erik shook his head despairingly. “of all people, I had hoped” here he held a fist to his lips, turning the good side of his face fully into the dark and leaving only the mask for Raoul to see. “hoped you would not degrade me in such a way.”  
“You think so little of me, after all we've been through?” Raoul took a step near him. “I do not ask out of disgust or… or malicious intent.” The two stood their ground, unable to take their eyes off each other. He needed to clarify while he still could. “I couldn't sleep because I have been overwhelmed with change. Some of it was easy to handle. But other things I have been trying to learn how to cope with.” He took a deep breath. “When I saw you with Christine, I saw that you were very happy. And I saw that she was as well.” Raoul broke away and looked to the edge of the pit, the only thing to focus on other than his friend or the darkness. “She has expressed her fondness for your company. She thinks you are brilliant. I want her to be happy, as I want you to be happy. And, if this is what she wants, I won't hold her back, but I must know how you feel, monsieur.”  
Erik studied him for a long time in silence. Raoul looked him in the eyes, accepting his gaze. After his erratic heartbeat started to return to normal, the man said “that is not the only reason you have come here.”   
Caught! But how?  
“Your face gives it away. You are extremely expressive. It was something I remembered from our time together.”   
Silence, then “No. It's not. But if I tell you what else I am feeling you will think me a liar or I will lose your friendship forever.”   
Erik huffed. “I have stood here up to this point, have I not? Why would I wait decades for you and throw you away? One of my only friends.” Erik coughed to cover his reddening cheeks. “It cannot be as bad as you say.”  
Raoul groaned and felt his face burn as well. “It will ruin it for me. You are… you are too endearing to be around if you do not feel the same.” Damn himself. He had said too much. “What I mean is… uhm.. I..”  
This time, it was Erik who took a step forward, coming close enough to make Raoul feel crowded against the wall. He looked very confused. “Do you.. feel overly fond of me?”  
Raoul pursed his lips. “Not exactly. It is that I.. ugh, damn it all! I love you, alright?!”   
Both men stood in shock. Suddenly, Raoul remembered that he was in a musty tunnel under the opera house at midnight, in his night clothes, disturbing Eriks sleep, and suddenly thrusting all this baggage upon the poor man and -  
Suddenly Erik brought his hands up to cup Raoul’s face, tenderly stroking his cheeks as if memorizing them. He looked sad, yet happy. Raoul couldn't make heads or tails of it.   
He stroked a thumb across Raoul’s lips and said “You foolish boy. You cannot mean it.”  
“I do.” Raoul assured, gripping his skeletal hands in his own. He then sealed the distance and kissed him. Erik startled enough to take a step back, but Raoul followed and maintained the kiss, then brought a hand up to remove the mask. When they broke apart he held it up and declared “I have seen you, Erik. The real you. And I'm not afraid.”   
"What of Christine?"   
He smiled, but behind it was worry. He had not had the boldness to address this with her yet and he prayed that, beyond all hope, she would understand. "I love her as well. And you love her. And she loves us. Why can we not have eachother?" Erik looked like he was about to protest such a ludicrous idea, but Raoul put a hand over the mans ribcage where his heart would be, feeling the prominent bones. He refused to look down at it, though, and kept his eyes on him. "Who could say our relationship is normal where it stands? I, a recent time traveling ghost. You, a mysterious phantom. And Christine who loves us despite ourselves. This is not such a leap, Erik."  
Erik let out a sob of relief, then brought their foreheads together. “You are a fool.” He whispered.   
Raoul grinned and closed his eyes. “But I am your fool, if you'll have me.”


End file.
